


Chapter 1: Agnieszka leaves the Tower

by narodnik



Series: After the Fall of the Wood [1]
Category: Uprooted - Naomi Novik
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:06:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8393761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narodnik/pseuds/narodnik
Summary: The Wood has lain dormant, regrowing its strength. How will this regrowth of the Wood affect Agnieszka, Kasia, and Sarkan-- and rest of the kingdom?





	

It was a cool autumn morning in the valley of Polnya, the early light casting the Tower in a transcendent glow. Agniezska stirred, yawned, and opened her eyes to look about her old room in the Tower. The indentation on the pillow next to her had long since gone cold, as Sarkan had stolen away in the pre-dawn light and had already been working in his laboratory for several hours, as was his habit. He had honestly felt sheepish about boldly inviting her to share his chamber, so had taken to sometimes joining her upstairs in what had been her only room ever – the room where she had been transported as an unwitting subject from Dvernik, the room where she now voluntarily resided. 

Agnieska looked around the room for her slippers, as the stone floor of the Tower was icy; her big toe couldn’t find them under the bed, either. She signed in annoyance and whispered a soft but firm _Vanastalem,_ and immediately her feet were enveloped in thick woolen socks, with luxurious folds of a sheepskin cascading over her shivering, bare shoulders. She had learned to perfect this spell, her very first from those early days in the Tower, in those long-ago days when she was the unwilling pupil, and the Dragon her irritated teacher. 

Now through thoughtful intonation of _Vanastalem,_ she could produce the proper clothing for every occasion. In general, she preferred not to break down spells scientifically—that approach bored her and she preferred to intuit and improvise her spells —but this particular spell, _Vanastalem,_ was so useful that it would have been foolish not to learn Sarkan’s rules of spell articulation for a precise outcome. When you wanted a simple homespun with no cloak or over-dress, you shortened and slurred the syllables with a faint down-tick at the end of the enunciation; when you wanted a thick warm cloak on a cold morning, you slurred the spell but said each syllable to completion, with a little up-tick in your tone. Through the timber of her voice, Agneiszka could even specify the level of comfort and style she wanted, as Sarkan had shown her with his own impeccably crafted inlaid leather boots, fitted britches and jacket and neat tunic that he regularly wore. Rarely did Agnieska need a fine dress these days, as she lived in the Tower with the Dragon and did not regularly appear at court, and frankly she preferred a simple homespun dress. But when the Dragon commented on her appearance, or she just felt like dressing up, she could refine her outfit to produce a green velvet gown with black lace trim around the waist and collar, the black and green tones that suited her dark hair and complexion and were set off by pearls in her bunned hair, paired with solid, yet feminine, black leather boots. She liked this look, and it was a comfortable outfit that she could remain in for the duration of a long day of court appointments, or lessons and research at the Tower. 

Agnieska walked down the spiral staircase in her warm sheepskin and headed for the kitchen to brew some tea and down a slice of fresh bread. Today would be another long day of reading and self-teaching, using the books that were at her disposal in the Dragon’s library. Most of them were boring or useless; her somewhat eccentric style of magic encompassed the folkmagic of Jaga, and was not easily taught from the standard canon of magic. As Sarkan could annoyingly attest, most of his attempts to educate her went in one ear, and out the other. She read the spells in his scholarly texts, but she had trouble concentrating on the difficult ones, and he would get frustrated with her. 

Just as Agnieszka was comtemplating her love of folkmagic and difficulty concentrating on the standard magical texts, she bumped into the Dragon at the bottom of the staircase, and the sheepskin cloak slipped off her shoulders. Sarkan immediately reached for the tails of the cloak, and pulled them up around her, his hands resting just under her collarbone. 

“It’s getting colder these last few weeks, you should cover yourself better,” he gently admonished. She rolled her eyes in response. He said, “I was just coming to wake you. A messenger is just arriving over the hill. Maybe he’ll bring word from Rosya about your request to study there.” 

She heard the approach of horse’s hooves outside the gate. With a quick spell, she uttered open the enormous front door of the tower, with Sarkan just over her shoulder to greet their guest. 

The man, evidently a royal messenger from Rosya, cloaked in a black coat with gold trim in the Legion of Honor-style from that kingdom, got off his horse and bowed deeply. 

“Greetings, Agnieszka of Dvernik”, the royal messenger raised his eyes to look at them. “And greetings to you, milord. I am here to deliver to her ladyship this letter from the King of Rosya.” The messenger held out both hands to present Agnieszka with a heavily adornd scroll of white parchment bound in gold twine, with the red waxen seal of Rosya binding it closed. 

Agnieska thanked him and invited him inside to rest and breakfast with them, so that he and his horse could have rest before their return journey back to Rosya. The messenger appeared very thankful for this invitation, although Sarkan behind her was befuddled. She could feel his angry breath on her neck and the steam practically coming out of his ears. 

“This is my Tower; I am happy to grant Agnieszka’s wish but you must stay within the room that I provide for you and you musn’t explore the rest of the castle,” he told the messenger, to which the messenger, a bit surprised, nodded in eager agreement, and was shown where he could stable his horse outside the Tower. He looked frightened and wanted to get away as quickly as possible, and Agnieszka doubted whether he would even leave the stable for the remainder of his visit. An angry wizard was to be avoided at all costs, after all. 

“This man could be a spy,” Sarkan hissed at Agnieszka as they walked back inside, once the messenger was out of earshot. They stared at each other for a moment, each one incensed at the other, and both of them still trying to feel out the limits of their tolerance for the other. Agniezska, for her part, could not understand why a friendly assistance to their new ally could be harmful, especially in light of her request to the Rosyan king, which wasn’t a tiny favor, after all. 

Once back inside the Tower, Agnieska ripped open the letter, in her eagerness, tossing the gold twine to the floor and ripping the parchment. She felt Sarkan’s stern eyes on her as she read the letter aloud. 

_To her ladyship Agniezska of Dvernik,_

_I have received through the Council of Rosyan Wizards and Witches, your letter dated from this past month of September. I have considered your request to study in our esteemed State Library of Trudik and to examine the collection of Maria Olshanka, a foremost healer and conjurer of the 13th century. I have decided to agree to this request, under the condition that you share your research with the royal Council, and leave behind any notes that you may take while our guest. I am delighted to offer you a place in the Rosyan court during your stay in our Castle._

_Warmest regards, _Peter VI _His Majesty King of Rosya___

Agnieszka read the letter aloud, and as she did, the corners around Sarkan’s eyes wrinked with pleasure. “At last”, he said, seizing her by the elbows, “This is excellent news!” Agniezska was excited too, but terror creeped into her mind after a moment. Everything in the Tower felt comfortable and right to her, and now she would be venturing alone into a foreign capitol city. The last time she had done this, on her trip with Marek, Kasia and the Queen to go to Kralia, she had been met with shock and irritation about her appearance, had been accused of treason, and had been forced to go before a royal tribunal to save her dear best friend. She did not relish this voyage so much as fear it. 

Sarkan and she had decided upon the plan almost as soon as the Wood had been defeated. She needed to obtain training in the folkmagic that had lent Jaga her wisdom and power in generations past, and even Maria Olshanka before that. But these two witches hailed from Rosya, and though they had spent much of their lives in Polnya, many of their original works were still housed in the Rosyan library at Truvik. Agnieska had much to learn from reading their original texts and divining the nature of so many spells: spells of healing, spells of conjuring, and possibly many others. 

Lost in thought, she sat in the garden and tried to work throughout the afternoon and early evening, but her thoughts were mired in her upcoming trip, her separation from her family in Dvernik and the valley and Tower that she knew so well, and of separation from Sarkan. Though their relationship was tense, she couldn’t imagine being apart for more than a day or two of court appointments, let alone an entire year. The spells on the page could not captivate her. Lost in thought as she was, she did not hear Sarkan steal up behind her, until he was across the room, standing by her in the garden and looking at her while she tried to conjure an enormous clocktower that beat to a steady rhythm of magic. This was one of his favorite spells, and it mirrored his style: the spell required precise elocution to get the ticking just right. She had conjured up a beautiful clock tower, in mahogany, with a gleaming gold faceplate, that stood five stories high. Yet the rhythm of the chime wasn’t quite right. 

Sarkan leaned forward in concentration, trying to discern where she had gone wrong, then came around behind her and placed his hands under hers. For old-times’ sake, and because she knew she would miss him, she accepted his guidance, and felt him working his magic under hers, intimately examining the inner workings of her clock spell. Suddenly the clocktower beat in perfect time and in the process, grew three times as tall, as a powerful energy coursed between them. Sarkan’s face was mottled red and Agnieszka blushed from the electric force they generated in combining their magic to this steady drumbeat. While Agnieszka quenched the spell, as she had by now learned to do quite well on her own, she felt Sarkan’s eyes staring hotly on her neck as he pressed into her clothes from behind. As she was completing her work of draining the magic from the spell, she felt his strong hands, first on her waist, then reaching under her dress to fondle her breasts, all the while breathing hot flames on her neck. 

As if catching himself by surprise, he suddenly stopped and pulled back. “You should leave in the morning with the messenger. The trip will be arduous and you should rest tonight.” Sarkan spoke matter-of-factly, as though she was leaving the Tower after a perfunctory visit. 

Agniesza whirled around. “How can you talk to me that way?” She demanded, holding his shoulders in her hands, searching deep within in his smooth hard face, imploring him to speak more kindly on the eve before her departure. He flared his nostrils, but seemed to understand, and his eyes softened into her gaze. He pressed her waist hard against his, and leaned forward as if to kiss her. Then, he instead uttered a spell of disappearance into her neck and they were at once in his chambers, falling into the velvety folds of his bed, his flaming tongue warming her body, stoking a bonfire into which they quickly and happily melted. 

At noon, Agnieszka mounted her grey horse and rode with the royal messenger out of the valley of Polnya. She stopped in Dvernik at her parents’ house to bid good-bye to her family and to bring them some rabbits and a lamb from the Tower kitchen. Then they rode out of the valley for good, the late afternoon sun all gold and green against the healthy stand of trees along the road leading toward Kralia. In the months since the defeat of the Wood, the valley had been transformed from a dark and desperate zone on the cusp of corruption to a place of peace and happiness. This was in large part due to three individuals: Agnieska, helped by Kasia and Sarkan, had purged most of the sickened heart trees through a process of drying them out and burning them with fire-heart. Agnieska performed the Fulmia spell, while Kasia chopped down the defiled trees with powerful swings of her axe, and Sarkan used a new recipe to brew fire-heart and replenish their dwindling stores of the potion. Together, the three of them had gone a long way towards destroying the Wood forever. In the place of these piles of ash and splintered stumps, healthy trees could rise up, suckled by the purifying water of the Spindle and the clean air of the Polnyan valley. 

Now, all that remained was a small stand of trees in the center of the Wood, and a few scant animals such as wolves, magpies, otters and walkers that remained faintly corrupted, although the Wood was so weak that the corruption could not take a deep hold anymore. That cleansing, combined with a couple of years of plentiful snowfall in the mountains, fed the Spindle and made for a bountiful harvest for all the people of the valley. Sarkan remained in the Tower to keep the Wood’s power in check, or at least that was his reasoning; perhaps he also enjoyed the solitude. 

And Kasia? Kasia had left the valley to be captain the royal guard of Polnya, Agnieszka longed to see her friend. They kept a regular correspondence despite the distance that separated them, and Agnieska learned through Kasia’s letters of her rise to great success. Kasia had first risen to fame due to her bravery in the war against the Wood, and had agreed to be personal personal bodyguard to the crown prince Stashek and princess Marisha, who lived in Kralia. Through her bravery in the war with the Wood, she had become famous as a warrior. She also had become a surrogate mother to the royal children, with Solya as the regent until Stashek was old enough to assume the throne himself. Agnieszka was so happy to see her best friend get the recognition that she deserved, and to play such an honorable and valuable role in their kingdom, but she missed the old days of walking together in the valley, of humming folk songs in the street on their way to school on an autumn day, of sharing delights in climbing trees and harvesting the apples amidst much laughter and joking. ** 

Two days later, Agnieszka reached Kralia, where she would rest for a week and gather supplies before sojourning onward across the Yellow Marshes. The city was just as she had remembered from her last visit: the bales of hay and barrels lining mud-slicked streets, the stone walls of the fortressed city, the enormous castle rising up from the very center of town. 

But this welcoming could not be more different from the suspicion she had faced on her last visit. Instead of chilling darts by passersby and jeering crowds demanding a trial when she had returned with Marek and Queen Hanna, she was heralded as a hero. The workers, the kitchen maids, the tradespeople and even the aristocrats of Kralia had lined up along the streets, cheering her and chanting her name. Fine ladies waved their scarves out the upper balconies and the men even waived their handkerchiefs. “Agnieszka! Agnieszka!” Everyone cried. “We welcome you to Kralia! Agnieszka of Dvernik!” 

As her horse strode onward through the crowd, she approached the enormous castle gate, which had been drawn open in anticipation. There on the door to the castle, stood Solya out in front with Stashek, and next to him Kasia with Marisha clinging to her skirts. Solya looked satisfied with himself as though he was planning the next move in his game of chess. Kasia stared out at Agnieszka with bright and happy eyes. 

“Nieszhka! How good to see you!” They embraced as the truest of friends, the deepest kind of love, and they held each other for several moments. 

“My dear Kasia,” Agnieszka pressed her forehead against her friend’s. “I missed you so much.” Words could not express how happy she was to see Kasia looking so well, looking as strong and as beautiful as ever, and clearly thriving in her new role as captain of the king’s guard and royal guard of Stashek and Marisha. 

Kasia looked at her friend, as if she wanted to say something, but couldn’t form the words. “We have so many things to talk about, but first come inside and get warm by the fire.” With that, they went into the castle, arm in arm, as happy as in the oldest days wandering about the village in search of ripe apples to pick. ** 

Agniezka spent the next week catching up with Kasia in long walks around the castle, and learning all about Solya’s attempts to woo her friend. They had quite a laugh about that. But other things were not quite as amusing: as Kasia explained, there were new dark forces that were on the move in Kralia, and threatened to disrupt the peace between the kingdoms. 

One evening after the children had gone to bed, Agnieszka sat in the great hall around an enormous fire that roared away. Solya, Alosha and Kasia were sitting with her, each enjoying a taste of whiskey and gazing into the flames. Alosha broke the silence. 

“It’s good that you’re here, so we might as well tell you in person,” Alosha began. “As Kasia has probably told you by now, there are dark forces on the move this very night.” 

“Yes, I know, Kasia has been telling me,” said Agnieszka, who could feel herself breaking into a cold sweat through her gown, as worry and anticipation overtook her. 

Alosha continued: “The Wood is not dead, but sleeping. And waiting for a dark voice to summon it to wake up. We believe that dark force is now living in this very city.” 

Baffled, Agnieszka had so many questions for them. “But how come you haven’t told me this until now? And does Sarkan know?” 

Alosha exchanged looks with Solya. “We believe he may be connected to the dark force in some way, and so we waited until you had left the Tower under the pretext of your studies to tell you so that he couldn’t hurt you.” 

None of this made any sense. The Dragon was her friend and teacher, her closest confidante besides Kasia, and would never do anything to hurt her. Suddenly she remembered moments of agony in velvet blankets. So, she corrected herself, he would never seriously injure her. 

“There must be some mistake,” Agnieszka shook her head and looked around the room at the pairs of eyes fixed pityingly on her. 

“The dark force goes by the name of Sarkan,” whispered Kasia, “And it takes the shape of a black dragon in the night.” The blood drained from Agnieszka’s face, and a fleeting doubt sprung up in her heart that she could not entirely reconcile. And what was she to do? She would have to stay in Kralia, rather than continue onwards to Rosya, until this mystery about a Dragon impostor was solved. 


End file.
